


In Between

by MudaMuda



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, England being a dick as usual, F/M, Historical Hetalia, Minor Violence, Threesome - F/M/M, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 12:16:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12254214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MudaMuda/pseuds/MudaMuda
Summary: As an English colony, consorting with the enemy is forbidden for Canada. But when France makes an unexpected visit, she’s briefly enticed to forget where her loyalties lie…





	In Between

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be finished last December, but I totally forgot about it. I'm not sure why I made Canada a girl. I think I was tired of writing gay porn. 
> 
> Timestamp: Early 1800s. Think Napoleon and the War of 1812.  
> Warnings: Barely historically accurate. Also, Canada’s an older teenager at this time, like 17.

Owing to their current circumstances, Canada and France didn’t see each other much these days, though they did exchange letters. That, at least, England permitted.  France had been on a sojourn in North America for some time because he, like England, had duties on the continent to attend to before returning to Europe. 

While Canada expected to hear from France, she did not expect it to be in person. So today when he showed up at her home in the flesh, that was a surprise, though a welcome one. England was out for the afternoon, having gone into town for something or other that did not concern her anyway, so she figured she would spend the day alone with the shawl she was embroidering. 

When she opened the front door she received an affectionate greeting, to her bewilderment.

“ _ Ma chérie!”  _ France said, holding out his arms to invite her into an embrace that she stepped into comfortably. As usual, he was dressed well. A silver pin gleamed at the throat of his silk cravat and his dark blue coat fit him impeccably. When she leant against him to kiss his offered cheek, his face was smooth. He must have shaved earlier in the day. The distinctive perfume of his aftershave enveloped her, following her even after she pulled away. Heavy, a little dark, sharp like cardamom. She hoped the scent didn’t linger or she would have a difficult time explaining it to England.

He wouldn’t like for France to be here-- this house or the continent, but Canada did not need to say as much because France already knew and did not care. 

“I won’t be long,” he said. “I was around and I thought I must see you.”

Canada smiled at this, and France returned her smile with a peculiar intensity in his expression. By the time she lowered her hand from her mouth, France had looked away and followed her to the sitting room.

Speaking French rather than English was a nice change, one Canada slid into comfortably. France had not spoken a word of English since he arrived, and Canada saw no reason to stop.

 

Their meeting continued, with France acting oddly detached and fixing her with those same long stares. He looked appreciative, almost, and it was beginning to make her blush to be held under his gaze the longer their conversation continued.  She wondered why exactly his eyes were lingering. Maybe he was surprised by how different she looked now. She had grown some since they had last seen each other, and considered herself a grown woman now, despite England still referring to her as a girl or a young lady-- forms of address she bore with silent distaste.

Come to think of it, she had had a conversation with England a few days earlier, where he had made an odd comment about her age. He had mentioned something about her getting ‘to that age’, but did not elaborate, and she knew better than to ask him what he meant, because he didn’t seem to want to talk about it too deeply. Just to address it, so she could anticipate whatever was coming. And he had given her the same kind of look France was giving her now. A quiet stare, appreciative but uncertain. He looked nowhere in particular on her body, but still made her feel like she was being… considered. 

She didn’t have to think for long to understand what he was implying, but opted to put the thought from her mind until England was ready to broach the topic directly.

Among their kind there was a sort of socially accepted  _ droit du seigneur  _ for colonizers and their wards. The colonizers reserved the right to devirginize their wards, or pursue relationships with them if they wanted, so if England wanted to stake his claim, Canada assumed this was nothing peculiar. 

She supposed she didn’t mind having her virginity taken by her guardian. She liked England plenty, though she had never considered being with him in  _ that  _ way. He acted too stern for her to imagine him in any type of sexual scenario, but maybe she had misjudged him. But the decision to be with him was not hers to make. Whether or not England wanted her, the right to her virginity was nonetheless his. 

In a lull in the conversation, France took the opportunity to confirm her suspicions that England’s right was, unfortunately, exactly what he wanted as well.

“You’ve gotten very beautiful, Canada.” he said, sliding closer to her on the settee and giving her wrist a kiss. Though he had raised her as a young girl and she considered their relationship to be a close one, it had been quite some time since they lived together. Although she also wouldn't mind to have her first time with France, she was uncertain. Passionate and caring though he was, France unfortunately wasn't without his share of issues either. Where England kept his libido under control, France too often relied on his. His hurried attitude after she'd told him England would return in a few hours signalled to her that he wanted to take her quickly just because he could.

His hands began to wander more, from her arms to her waist, and her accusation came out before she could blunt it. 

“Don’t take my virginity just to outdo England,” she scolded, moving away. “If you came here for the express purpose of doing that, after we haven’t seen each other in so long, and that’s all you’re after…”

“No, never!” France exclaimed. He took her by the shoulders and made her face him. “ _ Mon coeur,  _ I wasn’t expecting you to be so grown up. I made up my mind here, once I saw you, that I wanted to have you. Is that wrong of me?”

“Yes,  _ papa,”  _ she said as firmly as she could manage, trying to steer him away from this topic. Calling him that would hopefully remind him of how he used to raise her, and dissuade him from making any more advances. She didn’t exactly want to refuse him, but when she considered she wasn’t his to have… 

“You don’t want to be with me?” 

The hurt in his voice was palpable in the upward emphasis on the ‘ _ avec moi!?’  _ as if to say, “if not me, then who?”

“I’m England’s,” she said. The pitying look she received did not surprise her. 

“You plan to obediently give it up to that tedious, bitter cretin?”

“I can do what I please!” 

She stood suddenly, then blushed, feeling ridiculous about her obedience. 

“But you take such shame in admitting it. You don't want someone like him, you're only doing it because it's the right thing. How dull.”

“It’s not dull,” she said haltingly, feeling the need to defend England. France stood as well, gesturing around. 

“He’s not here, you may do as you like. And when he  _ does  _ insist you sleep with him, how will he be able to tell whether or not you’ve been taken before?”

Canada twirled a loose thread on her shawl around her finger. She was beginning to feel warm. 

“I think you should go,” she said. 

The more France talked, the more she began to consider committing improper acts with him, because he had a point. Nothing would go wrong if they did it quickly. England would not arrive back until later in the evening, and even if he came in early it would not be difficult for France to sneak out. And if she never said anything, he would never know they had been together. But she still refused.

“I would feel too guilty to keep it secret,” she explained, starting for the front hallway to usher France out. 

She had hardly taken two steps before his hand came around her waist from behind and she was lifted, carried further back into the parlor. A noise of surprise tried to escape her throat, but she remained too shocked to even struggle as France sat on a side chair, pulling her onto his lap. She could feel he had the beginning of an erection, which provided enough reason for her to resist. But a warm shiver ran through her as France’s mouth pressed the shell of her ear and he asked, “Don’t you ever tire of being so  _ good?” _

With her neck being tickled by his breath, she shrunk forward, right into his hands as they cupped her breasts. She gasped, clapping her hands over his.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll go slowly,” he said.

His voice was warm and sultry, and the sound of it excited her. 

“Is it more tolerable if you don’t have to face me?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”   
“Let yourself go. Don't think about anything, just feel.” 

“I can’t. This is so sudden.”

“Is it?”

You wanted me the moment you saw me? Aren’t you coming on too quickly?”

France’s tone was sly and ponderous. “I didn’t decide at the first sight. The exact moment I decided I wanted you… was when you leant in to kiss my cheek and your breasts pressed against me.” 

His fingers had found her nipples through her bodice. They were stiffening, simply from having her breasts squeezed. Canada’s face flared with heat as France slipped her shawl off to admire them in greater detail.

The pronounced way her breasts swelled over the top of her neckline drew unwelcome attention, so she had taken to hiding them. But France, embarrassingly, had nothing but praise to offer.

She tried to cover herself, but he gently took her wrists and pulled her arms away.

“You have a beautiful figure. How can I keep away from you?”

He kneaded her breasts, pushing them up. They swelled forth from her bodice, and she was afraid they would spill out if he continued edging them towards her collar. As it was, she could see her areolas peeking out like rosy crescents from the low neckline.

“Stop this,  _ papa--”  _ she said weakly, but the way she mewled his name only seemed to excite him more.

In one smooth motion, he tugged the front of her bodice down, and her tits bounced out, large and heavy in his hands.

“ _ Dieu, _ ” he muttered breathlessly, and squeezed them hard. She felt him stiffening in his trousers.

He fondled her, rolling his thumbs over the nipples. He held her by her breasts while he ground against her ass, and it was very embarrassing, but Canada felt wetness seeping from between her legs, despite it all.

He left one hand to fondle her breast and reached for her skirt with the other. Deft fingers tickled her lap, tracing in between her thighs, which she had the sense to snap closed before he could go too far. 

“Canada,” he drawled. The infuriating smug undertone to his voice that suggested he was going to get what he wanted at some point only made her more ashamed of her difficulty being assertive. 

She was in a daze. Despite her protesting, the way he squeezed her breasts delighted her. Of course she enjoyed what he was doing to her, but that didn't make it right. Warmth blossomed in her nether regions from the fondling; from the sensation of his knuckles dragging on her thigh, pulling her skirt up. 

She simply could not summon the resolve to stop him.

Once he drew the hem up, he could see her legs unobscured. They had fallen open, indicating her eagerness to accept him. With her thighs apart, he could touch her between them. 

And touch he did, sliding his hand through the opening in her knickers and pressing eager fingers into the folds of her vulva. Canada whimpered with shame, but also because he was pressing her in a very sensitive area. She quaked and gasped while he rubbed her. Even with no one to compare him to, the caresses against her womanhood indicated a great amount of skill. None of his touches felt repetitive or hurried like the back and forth flicking motions she used under the privacy of her bedcovers at night. 

His fingers massaged circles into the center of her folds, interspersed with featherlight taps that fell against her throbbing place with such accuracy that she quaked unceasingly. She clutched his wrist, so thick and masculine, and begged him to hold back, just a bit. He ignored her plea, and she could do nothing. To her great shame, she  _ wanted  _ to do nothing as his fingers danced over her intimate place, stirring her up. 

Her heart thudded with trepidation while she watched his hand move against her. The strong, sure way he touched her, unmercifully pleasuring her, gave her chills. Without knowing her body, he knew exactly how to make her climax. 

Ripples of excitement were causing her pussy to clench, grasping for a cock. Wetness dripped from her entrance and she moaned. She was so completely aroused she could not stop grinding against his fingers so they rubbed in deeply against her bud. Something inside her ached longingly, throbbing whenever his fingertips passed over that spot, and she knew she had to have him inside her as well.

In time, as a consequence of the rocking of her hips, she slipped down so she was practically lying across his lap. Her buttocks were clenching, holding her hips up into his touch. Her legs quivered, making evident her violent necessity to orgasm. He held her in his other arm so she didn’t fall, then removed the hand stroking her, to her dismay. 

“No!” she said, her hand shooting down to continue fondling where he left off. Her wrist was pulled away, so she wouldn’t finish until he offered her what she was longing for. 

“My, my, you know what you like,” he said, and she was too eager to feel ashamed.

He unbuttoned his trousers and slipped his erection forward between her legs. The wide cockhead skimmed the outside edge of her pussy, slicking itself with her juices as he brought it to the front and tapped it between her folds. Her fingers slipped around the head and slid lower down his shaft to grasp him, pull him against her. 

“Put it inside me, papa,” she pleaded.

He shifted his hips so she would be rubbed between her legs with his cock, teased even more. 

“Does your little flower ache?” he asked, pulling her close and murmuring into her ear. “Does papa need to stroke it for you?”  

“Take me. I want it,” she begged, rocking her hips. The need to have something inside her, stroking her to ecstasy, had become dizzying. His cockhead caught on the rim of her entrance, then slipped away before she could lower her hips to slide it in. Once again, she tried to position his member so it could be pushed in with a small thrust of his hips, but once again he moved away. France seemed to be purposely avoiding entering her, so she asked him what he was waiting for. When he did not respond for several seconds, she repeated herself. 

“Please--” she began this time, but France hushed her. 

“Canada,” he said. His voice had a ponderous quality now. “Why don’t we try something else?”

Canada started to ask what he meant by that, when she felt his index finger swipe through her essence and drag the wetness to the hole further back. He circled the pad of his finger around the pucker, then slipped it in up to the knuckle. Canada jolted and tried to pull away from the odd sensation but France held her in place.

“The feeling of a stiff cock inside this hole is indescribable,” he explained, rotating his finger.  “Tighter, wilder. You’ll never be able to close your mouth and stop moaning, the pleasure is so intense.”

Canada panted. Her womanhood pounded with heat that spread deeper, further back into her ass hole while he fingered her there.

“Oh,” was all she could manage to say. Her mouth had gone dry, and her pussy throbbed so heatedly she thought she might collapse with desperation. Having fingers in her ass was not unpleasant, at least the way France did it. So she allowed him to go the step further he was requesting.

And France was right about the pleasure of being penetrated in the rear, even if at first she could not call it pleasure. The stretching, burning ache of his cock opening her made her whimper with pain, but she soon adjusted. From there, the way the cock filled her was delightful, stopping her breath and stoking her arousal from how  _ fully _ she was being taken. The sensation  _ was  _ nothing like she could have imagined, and she relished each searing thrust.

But after a short time, France exclaimed,  _ dieu ait pitie!  _ and jolted still. Canada had closed her eyes to concentrate on the feeling, which had suddenly been cut short. She bit her lip in annoyance, thinking he had finished. 

At least, until she heard England say,

“Yes.  _ Lord have mercy  _ on both of you.”

Canada couldn’t stifle her shriek of surprise. Her eyes flew open, to see England standing in the doorway to the parlor.

So caught up were she and France in their passionate rutting that neither heard the sound of the front door being opened and closed again. So bold were Canada’s cries of pleasure that they masked the approaching footfalls. 

The livid expression on England's face petrified Canada, although she knew it was not directed entirely at her. 

“Canada, come away from him,” England ordered.

Mortified, she tried to bolt up and make herself decent, but France tightened his grip on her waist and she remained in place. His hard cock shifted inside her. She tried not to move too much anymore. The pounding heat of his member and the need she felt did not diminish in England's presence. Meekly, she brushed a wayward curl away from her face and began to offer an unqualified apology.

“Good evening _ ,”  _ France greeted England before she could say anything. He sounded very smug, and Canada wished he would act sensibly before he made things worse. “I was just... warming her up.”

England looked like he was barely restraining himself from attacking France. “I have never heard such an outrageous lie.”

“It’s the truth,” France said, so earnestly that if Canada hadn’t known better she would have believed it really was. “And I haven’t taken her womanhood. You may feel for yourself, if you don’t believe me.”

“Get out of this house.”

“Canada,” France said, prompting her with a nudge. “You told me you are willing to put out for England.”

“What?” both she and England asked at the same time. Canada accidentally locked eyes with England and blushed to her fingertips. The pleasantly surprised expression that briefly replaced his scowl made her want to hide for years. 

“Not only that,” France continued, the purr of his voice indicating an equally seductive look on his face, “she’s  _ so  _ willing and  _ so  _ good, she put up a valiant effort to refuse me and save herself for you.”

“An effort is not loyalty,” England said as he sunk back into his stern demeanor, making Canada shrink under his piercing glare. “Clearly she didn't refuse enough.”

“Even so,” France said. “Won’t you take advantage of her, given the opportunity?” 

“That is none of your concern. Canada, for God’s sake, come here now.”

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“Not yet, you are,” England said. 

Canada gulped, and her heart began to thud so loudly in her ears she nearly didn’t hear France as he whispered to her.

“Spread yourself for him.”

“What?” she asked, brazenly turning away from England to stare at France. He must have been joking. “I can’t--”

“He’s a pervert. He won't be able to resist. And once he’s satisfied, he’ll be in a forgiving mood.”

“Let me go,” she hissed at him, thoroughly humbled by the weight of her disobedience; already accepting whatever punishment England had in store for her. This was the wrong way to go about offering herself to England. He would awkwardly broach the subject later, and she would agree, and they would have silent, awkward intercourse in his bedroom. Nowhere did France figure into her expectations of being devirginized, and she strongly doubted England had expected him either. Canada was getting quite angry with France.

Coming here and stealing England’s right was one thing, but to then dictate how England should have his way with her? How rude. And the dangerous way England was eyeing them, if she complied, favoring France, and offered herself now like some kind of prostitute with him still inside her, would that start a fight, ending in a worse punishment for her?

They both pinned her down with their expectations, and she could not find an excuse to end this whole situation. As usual, she felt caught between these two, and she didn’t like it. 

She pinched her lips together, knitted her brows.

Horrible. France’s idea was horrible and degrading, but anything to break this awful tension...

Obedient as ever, she reached below her waist and placed three trembling fingers at the outside of her lips, spreading them open for England to see. She blushed and he stared, turning even paler at the sight. Tears welled in her eyes faster than she could blink them away. As she tried to hold herself open, her shaking fingers slipped on the wet folds, involuntarily dragging along her clitoris.

France felt her thighs jolt and prompted England to hurry. 

“Don’t leave her waiting all night to feel your cock.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” England said, though his voice sounded hoarser now.

There was a fire in England’s eyes of which Canada could not discern the meaning. Fury, jealousy, possessiveness? She felt terribly silly with her legs open, trying to meekly appease him when she had already gone so far with France. What kind of half hearted concession was this? Would England be satisfied with only taking the remnants of what she had to offer in an attempt to save some pride? What was France thinking? 

Moments ticked past in which the tension grew denser. The frightening uncertainty of whether or not she would be fucked or punished did nothing to curb Canada’s lingering arousal. 

“What kind of man would refuse?” she heard France murmur into her ear. To her astonishment, France’s method of persuasion seemed to have won England over, for he came over to stand between her legs, and stared at her with a frightening intensity before lowering his hands to the buttons of his trousers. Canada watched in silent apprehension while he unhooked each button from its clasp. His fingers moved in slow, deliberate motions, undoing his buttons one. by. one. Everything was done with a menacing calmness, even dipping a thumb into his drawers and pulling the front down to release his cock. He wasn’t fully erect, but he was getting there; his cock growing the longer he looked between her legs. That furious leer breaking across his face sent tingles racing through her. Being both the object of his anger and his lust confused her. She wondered if he were just as conflicted. 

She flinched away as he leant close enough for his erection to rest heavily on top of her vulva. He didn’t tap it or tease her as France had, and Canada was grateful he wasn’t planning to drag this out. The simple relief that no fighting occurred was enough to ease her mind a bit as she steeled herself for what was to come.

France’s cock bested England’s in length, but the girth of England’s shaft stretched Canada more than sufficiently when he plunged in. When the head of his cock met the resistance of her virginity, he did not slow, but pressed harder. Insensible to her gasps of pain, he continued, sliding further with every thrust. Tears wet her cheeks and she cried out, as with a final, savage thrust, he buried himself to the quick.

She could feel their cocks bump against each other inside her. Fear and excitement fluttered in her breast. This was so much to take in, she did not know if she could bear it. She squeezed her eyes shut and lay her head back on France’s shoulder, fighting the whelming urge to faint. As she tilted her chin up, it was grabbed forcefully and pulled down. England’s glare narrowed in on her, and she was too afraid to look away. 

“Is that painful?” he asked. He had not removed his gloves, and the leather stuck against her wet cheeks as he held her around the jaw. His fingertips dug in and Canada’s breath hitched. She was suddenly keenly aware of a hot liquid trickling down the inside of her thigh. 

“It hurts,” she said. 

“How much? How does my cock feel?”

Despite the waves of pain throbbing inside her from the forceful penetration, arousal curled in her belly at the provocative question. Canada swallowed laboriously, her dry throat clenching. 

“It feels-- your c-cock feels…” 

She had never imagined speaking to him like this. Having to meet his eyes while she replied to such a filthy question was more than she could bear. She searched for a neutral answer, not wanting to be hurt even more. 

“Your cock feels… like it’s tearing me in two,” she managed. The truth, but also one that would appeal to his sadistic side.

England did not stop giving her that awful glare, but the side of his mouth quirked up marginally.  

“If this degenerate--” here he nodded at France “--had taken my right and made a woman of you before I had the chance…” He left the threat unspoken, but Canada felt the resounding weight of his authority when she meekly broke eye contact for the briefest moment and he snapped at her, “Is that clear, young lady?”

His dominating tone had an astounding effect.  _ Young lady.  _ She wondered if he knew how she hated being called that. The childish, demeaning name struck her with shame at how  _ naughty  _ she had been, disobeying him. Chills echoed down her spine; hot little sparks tingled below her waist. England’s cock twitched as she squeezed around it involuntarily.

“Yes,” she said, hardly managing to keep her tone even.

Now England smiled, just a bit. 

“There’s a good girl,” he said. His voice wavered, and he looked almost weak for an instant.

“England--” she whispered, only to silence herself, clamping her teeth onto her bottom lip as he pulled back. Even with ample lubrication, the agony of his cock stretching her caused her to whine in pain. He didn't stop. So she struggled, but even that meant nothing. She squirmed, clawed his back, thrashed her legs, but England was unforgiving, his hips slapping against her pelvis with each savage thrust. His cock was like hot iron, holding her open and scalding her tightly clenched insides. 

France treated her with more care; the same gentleness he had shown earlier did not change now that England was here, thrusting like a savage. This provided Canada some comfort, not to mention sharp pleasure, to feel him deep inside her from behind. 

Pinned between the hard bodies of two men, she could do nothing but clench around their pounding cocks, attempting to give them more pleasure in the hope that this would end faster. 

England altered his position, so he now fucked her bearing down from above rather than straight in and out as he had been. From the angle he entered her, his shaft rubbed between her lips, massaging the sensitive bud there. Her back resounded with hot shivers, and her hips jerked into the heat of his cock. After only a half dozen of these thrusts, the mind numbing pleasure she had felt earlier with just France had returned. Each time his shaft ground against that dangerously responsive part of her, she drew closer to climax. 

Canada had never expected her stodgy, uptight guardian to show such delight in anything, much less fucking. His stamina, his hard and unforgiving thrusts excited her, but she bit down her shameful cries. 

Some willful, abashed part of her made her refuse to show the extent of her pleasure. She felt stupid and ashamed that England was so good at this when she assumed he would not be.

And she felt indignant. Oh, so indignant. 

With a knee quivering grind of his pelvis against hers, she gasped, and her legs wrapped around his waist before she could think. This served as encouragement, spurring him to pound into her with short, deep thrusts. Somewhere inside her, a place throbbed every time his cockhead stroked it, and she moved her hips in order to be rubbed there. Showing more care and perceptiveness than she had expected, England met the motions of her hips halfway, ramming into that thrilling spot until she moaned. The aching inside her from his earlier roughness had become deliciously good.

His breathing grew rougher, and so did France’s as he panted into the side of her neck. France’s thrusts had become erratic, quick but halting as though he couldn’t decide if he wanted to continue. Giving a few final jerks of his hips, France slowed behind her and shuddered. He murmured her name and an apology, his lips warm against her shoulder. Canada still felt his cock pulse inside her, not as hard as before, but still there, filling her.

His lust satisfied, France relaxed into the chair and begrudgingly let England take over. England also noticed France’s sudden languidness and understood its meaning. Canada watched a triumphant smirk stretch across his lips as he observed his worn out rival. Then he looked down at her.

Able to claim her full attention now, England’s eyes smoldered with intense emotion. Competitiveness. Intending to succeed where France failed to make her climax. Domination. Making her writhe and shriek on the lap of the man who would hate to see his enemy give her such delight. 

Hot panic, flight or fight adrenaline slunk down her back and deep into her as he caged her in and laughed darkly. 

He had not slowed since he first entered her, but now he fucked her with unrelenting force. More often than not, his plunging thrusts made contact with that wonderful spot and she started to whine from the acuteness of the pleasure rippling through her. Mewling, clutching her thighs tightly around his waist, she grew weak with the mounting thrill of orgasm. She had difficulty fathoming the reality of the situation in which she was about to cum. Never could she have imagined this situation: her two father figures with their cocks buried inside her. 

Being brought to a climax she had only experienced with her own hand; something so private and shameful was about to be fucked out of her, and they would witness it. 

She willed herself not to cum, but she was helpless, and her body betrayed her.

The peak arrived, and she became overwhelmed with excitement. Her legs shook, she tightened everywhere and bit down on England’s shoulder, barely managing to silence herself.

She came quietly, but her body gave all the signs. The telltale tensing, squeezing, rippling. Her little gasp, her sudden breathlessness. But England, instead of being satisfied with that, pulled out and ground his cock along her sensitive clit, intending to make her scream. Her hand shot down to grab his cock, but he trapped her desperate fingers against his hip. 

“Did you cum?”

“Yes, yes, stop!” tumbled raggedly, in a half-shriek, from her mouth. The tip of her tongue grazed his lips, but he didn’t close the distance, only watched as she tossed her head back and fought to break free before she was rendered senseless.  

“Tell him that,” he demanded, nodding at France. 

Canada wanted to resist, but England thwarted her attempts. She was so sensitive, it hurt to be rubbed there, and each grind was torture, sending burning waves of pleasure through her. Every part of her body begged to let her rest, yet she wanted so badly to continue, as each thrust threatened to make one orgasm into two. So, she told France how good she felt, until England looked pleased. The triumph sent him over the edge, and his seed spilled onto her stomach.  

 

No fighting broke out afterwards. No smugness on France’s part or anger on England’s. The sex seemed to have abated their appetites for violence, because for now, all hostilities had been avoided. The afterglow left them all dazed, and they were absolutely silent as they made themselves decent again and continued about their business. 

With a meek nod to Canada, France put on his hat and left the way he came, and England, with his usual stalwart attention to indirection, never broached the subject of the encounter again.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this has a fraction of the regency-era erotic literature vibe I was attempting. This was originally going to be only franada with a fluffy virginity loss plot, but I crave drama and edge and I have no impulse control so I wrote in England halfway through.


End file.
